Some Boys
by ZiggycamefromMars
Summary: He didn't associate himself with any label, because he felt like he didn't fit in with anyone- not even the misfits. And then he met Hannibal Lecter, and didn't feel so lonely anymore. High school!AU.


High school was never something Will Graham enjoyed. He found it pathetic- particularly the way people would try to be someone they weren't. He found it hard to know himself, to know what he could define himself as. He didn't associate himself with any label, because he felt like he didn't fit in with anyone- not even the misfits. And by associating himself with complete lack of identity, he felt as if he didn't belong anywhere. No matter how many times his father would have him move school; Will knew he would never fit in anywhere.

He did not see why Baltimore High School would be any different. The atmosphere still seemed just as hostile, with its sharp scent of disinfectant and squabbling teens. Teenage angst was rife; there were the stereotypical cliques he used to think were just fictional, raging hormones and teachers who glared. Nobody in particular stood out to him in the first few minutes of arriving on his first day, so Will began to give up hope, eyes downcast as he quickly walked.

As he walked to the café with his tattered notebooks secured neatly under his bony arm, Will decided it was one of those days when he thought too much, and too fast. He could feel paranoia, the fear that he would be faced with the cruel, silent taunts of their mocking eyes. It grew within him, heightening as he placed a shaking hand on the door. His clothes swamped him and he felt slightly insecure compared to the brands he saw everywhere; but they kept him warm, and that is all his father could afford. He never complained to his father anyway.

The seat nearest the window looked a clever choice, as it was situated far away from the loud-mouths, and was rather close to a boy who was also sat on his own. The sharp tang of food hit his nose as he passed, and Will's stomach rumbled. His own meal was a meagre concoction of an overly soft apple, one cheese sandwich, and a chocolate bar. It was a feast, but also a cleverly devised plan from his father. If his father could disguise the fact that he did not allow Will food, but rather expected him to starve so he could feed his own smoking habit, he would prove successful.  
Will shrugged off the rumbling of his stomach. He would eat well today, and he might as well take advantage of that fact and bear the taste of the squished sandwiches. After what seemed like a decade of moving school Will had learned much, and this had become a routine. The first time it had happened he made the mistake of questioning his father, and ended up with the belt.

His back stung at the mere thought and burned with the eyes of the boy behind him.

"You're new."

The boy with his curly hair plastered to his forehead frowned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose in the process. Shoulders tensed, lips were pressed into a thin line, and Will Graham slowly nodded as he gingerly turned to face the boy.

"Yes." He gulped back a lump that had inconveniently settled in his throat, blinking hard.

"Then perhaps," the boy began, gathering his things as he moved from his seat, "I should keep you company. You do not seem to have made a friend."

It was true. Making friends did not come easy to Will, after all. Perception can be a very dangerous thing, and once people were presented with a boy who had an appearance as scruffy as his upbringing, it was enough to make their precious little stomachs churn. He knew he smelt bad; of stale sweat, of fish and neglect. He knew his clothes were far too big for his thin frame, drowning him and often covered in mud or dust. His prized possession was his dog, Buddy, who he had rescued one day after discovering him on the walk to his previous home.

Buddy was a secret to Will's father. The dog lived in the shed a few minutes away, tied up with an old lead he had discovered in their attic. Food was scarce for the dog, so Will often brought him bits of his own meals. He got skinnier and skinnier every day, but it didn't matter to him because his only friend lived. And that only friend, with its tail that wagged every time Will came through the door, with its wet nose that nudged his tears away, and with its warm fur, brought Will purpose. He could live so long as his dog did. His dog needed him to survive, and without that dog, Will knew he could never serve a purpose in the world.

"Are you alright?"

Will blinked, nodding silently as he bit into his sandwich. The bread was stale and the cheese too strong, but it chewed it up happily, knowing he wouldn't get another meal this big for a long time.

"I'm…adequate." The other laughed, a nice, friendly chuckle that seemed to stem from deep in the throat. Will inclined his head slightly as he finished chewing, and swallowed, blinking. "Something funny?"

Hannibal smiled, his canines flashing as he did so, running a hand through his gelled hair. "I find you highly amusing," he replied, honesty dripping. "And I find it refreshing."

Will Graham leaned back in his chair, still unable to make eye contact, but a smile plastering itself across his face as he nodded. "Awesome."

"Quite," Hannibal agreed.


End file.
